


Musings from my Messy MInd

by GrowLikeAPlant



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Random & Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrowLikeAPlant/pseuds/GrowLikeAPlant
Summary: What r u doing here





	1. Chapter 1

Basically, I'm here, typing this, because I got offered a job that requires a lot of typing. My typing skills leave a lot to be desired, and I don't want to like, suck at my new job. So here I am, sitting in front of my laptop, trying to type as quickly and as error-free as I am able to. I could take this opportunity to do some journaling. Except online rather than in a leather bound notebook like I usually do. I l believe it was yesterday on The Office, Pam said she could type 900 (?) words per minute. I wonder if I can even type 30.

The job I was offered is as position as a Reservation Center Specialist. It sounds fancy. It's probably not. I'm for some reason very interested in what the dress code will be. Will it be business casual? Completely casual? It will probably be more of the latter. It would be kind of cool though to get the opportunity to be in a somewhat professional atmosphere though. It would be a hopefully pleasant change from my coworkers in workout leggings.

I'm not sure what else to write. My cat is on the table, dangerously close to the puzzle I've been working on today. She seems she more interested in giving herself a bath though, and randomly making eye contact with me as I sing notes that are not meant for my voice at all.

I wonder if I'll actually keep up with this typing thing. I'd like to. The job doesn't start til May, so I've got time to practice. I just wonder if I'll spend that time actually practicing or watching Netflix and crocheting. I'm going to try to keep up with my typing practice. Key word is try.

So I'm singing along to SPotify as I attempt to type. It'ts making things kind of difficult. I'm not a very good multitasker, especially for being a woman. I have to think very hard about what I'm what I'm trying to type, or I'll end up typing words to the Senorita or Dear Agony instead of talking about... Well, whatever exactly I've been trying to convey here.

My back is very uncomfortable as I sit here, one of my legs on the chair, leaning forward. Ugh.

At this point I'm more focused on singing than typing. That might become problematic.

I told my grandma today when I was having lunch with her that I signed the agreement to take this job. She was less than thrilled. As I expected.

She told me that I'd meet people from "all walks of life there" and that it would give me a taste of "the real world".

She probably thinks I'm going to dye my hair pink again and get a tattoo, after a roommate or coworker suggests it.

I think the worst that'll happen is I maybe, MAYBE, take my first sip of alcohol, and maybe finally come to terms with the fact that I'm more attracted to girls than I'm attracted boys.  
It's not like she would ever find out about either.

Stuart is long gone from the town, if he ever was there in the begin with. So I highly doubt I'll even kiss anyone all summer.

But who knows. I'm basically going to be a receptionist, or a secretary.

I'll be like Pam from the office. Maybe I'll find my Jim.

I'm not getting my hopes up though. I try not to do that anymore. It's kind of working.

My boyfriend, or ex boyfriend, pr whatever he is, asked me what if what I'm typing. I considered working on some of my long abandoned gay fanfiction. But I deemed that would take too much concentration. I really just wanted to focus on typing somewhat decently.

I'm doing a little better than I expected. All of those years of having a lame slide out phone while my friends had iPhones payed off I guess.

I've been thinking a lot about some of my old friends lately. It's more than likely from hanging out with Marissa last week. Got me all nostolgic feeling I guess. It took me back to my days of cuddling on her couch as we watched shows that my mom didn't allow me to watch. I'd drool over Jared Padalecki.

Going to the Youth Center twice in one month probably didn't help, either. TJ made one flirtatious remark, and then I had resurfacing memories of stealing his hat and sleeping with it at nigh, because it smelled like him. Now I look at him, and it takes me a few moments to determine exactly why I "fell in love with him" at the ripe age of 16.

Oh yeah, because I could't have him, and because he knew I existed. The two best traits a man can have when you're young and have no self esteem. Now I'm more interested in a man's retirement plan.  
Sometimes they'll even text me back! Suprised pikachu face.

I'm pretty sure this one fellow that matched with today isn't a real person. I just clicked that I liked him purely to see if I could determine whether he was real or not.

In his first message to me, he said I was like the hot girl next door, but also beautiful, smart, and fun all rolled up into a delicious Tootsie Pop. So yeah, he's not real.

I matched with the married guy that used to go to my church purely to see if he'd match me back as well. He did, then almost instantly deleted me. I took screenshots of his profile though, so it's too late his cheating ass.

If i wanted to, I could really create a scandal. But with this town, I'd just instantly be labled a homewrecker. At least it would make my life a little more interesting, though.

I'm wondering if I should publish this. I really, really doubt anyone will read it. But maybe I'll die tragically, and this will be made into a book. Maybe I'll fake my death just for that very purpose. I'll do this complex ordeal, and I'll type about a stalker on here and all that jazz, then up and vanish. It'll be very cool.

Who am I kidding, if this gets any comments, it'll be people here yelling at me for not finishing my gay fanficiton. I do feel bad about that.


	2. A Dreary Monday

Well, here we are, day two of typing practice. We meaning me and my multiple personalities and I.

My mother is currently on the phone to me. She's complaining about my alcoholic brother and his lowlife girlfriend. I don't know how many times I've told her that she just needs to kick them out. But does anyone listen to a word I say? Nope. But if they want to fully support a 25 year old with no job, and a 19 year old with a kid that she won't raise, that's their choice. I get pretty frustrated with her on this topic. Why does o one listen to me?

Let's see. What's an interesting topic for me to write about? I babysat this morning. It went oddly well. I felt really good this morning when I woke up though, so I suppose maybe I'm just having a good day. However I am pretty tired now. I got a coffee drink after work, thinking it would wake me up, but I guess it didn't do much. The weather probably doesn't help at all. When I went into the post office, it was very cool and dreary out. It was lovely though. It made me want to curl up under a warm blanket and sip a warm drink. Now it's snowing very softly out. I'm sitting in the rocking chair by the window with my afghan on my lap, and yeah, I just feel very sleepy.

I've been messaging fake Tinder guy more. I'm still not convinced he's real, even though he's sworn up and down he is. He says he's a doctor. Who the hell is a doctor anymore?

He keeps sending like long, paragraph messages, explaining how he's real and blah blah blah. I just find it weird and kind sketchy. 

Oh, and he asked me what my hobbies were, and I was typing them out, he just blurted out that he's dominant in the bedroom. Like.... Okay. Certainly something I need to know within seven messages of meeting someone. Very cool, "Chaf". 

Mister Chaf said on his bio that Chaf isn't his real name. But who comes up with a fake name like that? Like, just go for Joe or something. Is this real name Chad and he just changed the last letter? Who knows. 

But like, me for example, if I were going to change my name, I'd probably go for Elizabeth, my middle name, or something like that. I feel that most people would. 

Boys are stupid. Don't ever look at one. 

My ex is currently asleep. At his ex wife's house. 

Well, if memory serves, it's probably his ex wife's boyfriend's parents' guest house. That makes it so much better. That really makes me want to get back together with him like he so desperately wants. He was going to describe the details of the set up to me yesterday, before I told him that I didn't care about the details. 

My mother brought him up while I was on the phone to her just now. She said that my dad told her that I'd told him, that my ex had been drinking.

I don't think I ever told her that he drinks, but I don't remember. I told her that he hadn't been, and he asked me a long time ago how I felt about drinking, and I'd told him I didn't like it. For a while he was really considerate, and told me when he wanted a drink, and if I minded, ect. Then I told her that he stopped letting me know when he was going to drink, and eventually, through mispelled words, weird messages about me saving his daughter, and ongoing obvious depression, I'd finally piece together that the man was wasted. 

And that just escalated to him sending me videos of him holding a knife to his wrist. I didn't tell my mother that. 

Anyways. Let's stop. 

I woke up this morning from a text from none other than Stand Up Stuart himself. Why have I not blocked the man that texts me probably once a week, and that stood me up more than once? 

Well, probably because he is now the manager of rooms at the Hyatt hotel, and the man looks good in a suit. That's probably why. My bad. 

I told him today that I got offered a new job, and he asked what is was. He said that is will be a good job for me. 

The reason why I even told him is because he used to be, basically the hotel manager of the main hotel in the town that I'm going to work in. It's a tourist town. 

But of course, then he moves 12 hours away from me. An hour away from my ex boyfriend. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I'd already been to the botanical garden there when he said he wanted to take me. 

But it's whatever, I guess. I should probably focus on myself for now, and not being a rich suburban housewife. Even though that's basically my dream job. 

I guess the thing is, Stuart has somewhat of a status. He could easily become a socialite. I want to be a socialite. Right now, I'm all but a country bumpkin, just with a more extended vocabulary than 80% of my peers. Along came this man that has a career, and is even working on bettering himself. He's eloquent, well read, has a great job, travels, and has been to freaking Broadway. Multiple times. He went to the ballet by himself. Insert orgasm here. 

That's what I had a chance at. Now I want either that, or better. I'm just not sure how easily i can be satisfied with less, now. 

Am I turning into a bit of a bitch with standards way higher than I have any right having? Oh, yes. Do I care? Not enough to change. 

Okay. I should write about something other than guys. 

I have to go to work in an hour, at my nursing home job. Last time I was there, my favorite resident was in the hospital. I hope she's out today. I've really missed her. 

I also truly hope they have my freaking schedule out. I could type paragraphs and paragraphs about the nursing home's schedule system. But I won't. 

I really don't want to leave my house today. 

Well. Okay. I think I got my typing practice in for the day. I'm going to try to find something else to do now.


End file.
